A Cold Reception
by vanityfair
Summary: Severus Snape has pledged to fight for the Order of the Phoenix. But the other members, save Dumbledore, question where his loyalties lie. A series of vignettes chronicling Snape's induction.
1. Alice Longbottom

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

A/N: This was written for SH's Spring Faire Festival in response to the "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix" Challenge. It didn't win anything, but I wrote it about two hours before the deadline, so no surprise there. I encourage you to pop in over at Sychophant Hex and check out those stories that did win. They were all very good and deserve lots of reviews.

**A Cold Reception**

**Chapter One—Alice Longbottom**

I watch as Snape raises his right hand and repeats after Professor Dumbledore. Both men's eyes glint seriously. This is no small matter, being inducted into the Order of the Phoenix, and I hope that the dark and mysterious man standing before us will not betray us like he has betrayed his first master. Though he makes me uneasy, the words he speaks are comforting, flowing over me like a warm bath. Frank and I said the same oath three years ago. So much has happened since then, but I remember it like it was yesterday, how the Headmaster had shown up at our door.

"Hello, Alice," he had said gravely, the twinkle conspicuously missing from his eyes. "May I come in? I have something important to discuss with you and Frank."

I ushered him in, worried that he had come to tell me that the Dark Mark hovered over my parents' house or Frank's brother's, but he surprised me.

"I'm here to ask you to join a secret organization pledged to fight Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix," he said simply. Frank nodded as if he knew all along what Albus was there to say, but I stared at him in confusion.

"Tom Riddle?" I asked.

"You-Know-Who," Frank said as he took my hand.

"Why us? What can we possibly do?" I asked, suddenly realizing what Dumbledore was asking of us.

"Because you are young and vibrant. Because I know you believe in equality and fairness. And more importantly than that, because I can see that you love one another very much."

We do love each other. I've adored Frank since sixth year when he would make faces across the table in Herbology at me. It was childish, I know, but he made me laugh. He still does. But I couldn't figure out what that had to with Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Frank felt the same way and asked.

"The one thing that Tom has always underestimated is the power of love. He sees it as romantic drivel better suited for silly women and small children—nonsense in other words. But I know better, it is an ancient magic more powerful than any Dark spell," the older man explained.

I wondered if it could repel even the Killing Curse, the dreaded Avada Kedavra, and if it could then why had Rufus and Aurelia Vance died? Love had not saved them.

"So you're assembling people who love each other?" Frank asked skeptically.

"Let me ask you a question," Dumbledore said, ignoring Frank's. "Would you die to save Alice?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. I looked at him surprised, unbidden tears springing to my eyes.

"You would?" I asked incredulously. I knew he loved me but I had no idea.

"Of course I would," he said, as he looked deeply into my eyes. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too." We looked up and remembered that Dumbledore sat watching us.

"And you, Alice?" He asked me with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, of course," I replied. How could I not? The fear that had been slowly building as I read the list of deaths and 'missing persons' in the Daily Prophet each day ebbed. It didn't disappear completely but with Frank's arm around me and armed with his declaration I knew I could face the night that slowly descended on us.

"Remember it only takes the slightest flicker of light to dispel the darkness—a match in a darkened room," Dumbledore said.

"We are to be that match?" Frank asked.

"If you accept," he said.

"We do," I had replied boldly. Frank had squeezed my hand and I knew that I spoke for both of us. A week later we had stood where Snape stands today. I don't know him very well, a different house and different year at Hogwarts, but he had sought me out, even before Dumbledore, I think. I had received an anonymous note asking me to meet someone at The Hogs Head. They had important information for me.

"I shouldn't be here, not with you. If Frank knew…"

"I understand your reticence but I have important information for you," he assured me. I was not assured. What could a known Death Eater possibly want with me? Was this some sort of ruse? I should've left Neville with my mother.

"What kind of information," I asked suspiciously.

"You've been marked, targeted. You and your husband's profile is too high. You need to go into hiding, leave the country, anything."

"I don't believe you," I said even though what he says is partly true. Our profile is high; since we joined the Order we have faced You-Know-Who several times, three to be exact. I was certain that each time would be our last, and secretly to myself I almost wished one of them had been. Our world is darkened, there is little hope and not much to live for, but dying a hero… I longed for it. Dumbledore had told us not to be frightened of death.

"It's their greatest weakness," he said. "They believe that death is the end, but in truth, it's only the beginning." And I believed him. I would run into battle, fighting as hard as I possibly could, taking impossible risks, frightened of nothing more than continuing another day—another day of burying friends, another day of watching a part of my husband die as he used Unforgivables on Death Eaters, another day of whispered suspicions. But since I brought Neville home from St. Mungo's I have a renewed sense of hope and of life. I want our world to be a safe place for him to grow up. I don't want him to face the horrors that I have seen. I want him to live. I want him to receive his Hogwarts letter, marry the love of his life, get a job, and have children. But he might not make it; we all might not make it.

I turned back to Snape, waiting for him to tell me the truth. He looked desperate, clutching the table in front of him, his knuckles whitening.

"Fine, you're right," he relented. "They aren't after your husband. They want your child. He-who-must-not-named believes that a child born at the end of July will be a threat to his rise to power, born to parents who have defied him thrice. He's consumed by it. He won't stop until he kills every child who fits that very description."

I looked down at Neville sleeping peacefully in his pram, his eyes shut, and his small hands balled into fists. I suddenly wished I was anywhere but here, a soft meadow, a chamber concert, a quiet bookshop, anywhere but here discussing the potential death of my child with this loathsome man.

"Have you told Lily Potter this?" I asked bluntly. He looked surprised and then his face hardened and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"No."

"You should," I said.

"I'm telling you."

"We already know. Dumbledore warned us two months ago." How I remember that day. I haven't slept properly since. My mother assumed the black circles that ring my eyes are from a colicky baby, but Neville is an angel. She offered to watch him for me so that I could get some sleep but I don't want him out of my sight. It wouldn't matter, even if he weren't there I would still dream. I dream of him often. I see someone pushing him from a window, a dark man and an explosion, he falls from his broom. I see a hundred different deaths for him and I wake up covered in a sheen of sweat and trembling, hoping I don't disturb Frank. I turned back to Snape. He was standing.

"Then I am wasting my time here," he snarled.

"I guess you are," I told him. When he left, I heaved a sigh of relief. I hoped I would never see him again. But of course, I did. Days later, Dumbledore announced to the Order that he wanted to induct Severus Snape as its newest member.


	2. Arabella Figg

**Chapter Two—Arabella Figg**

Snape stands in my living room, right in front of the fireplace mantle that holds all the pictures of my cats. I don't particularly like having him here. Wished he wasn't actually, not after what he did. He kicked my Cleopatra, poor dear, she's getting older now and is too slow to have clawed him properly for it. How like a Death Eater to prey on someone weaker than himself. Just because he claims he no longer tortures Muggles doesn't mean that he's reformed. You can tell a man by the way he treats animals as well as humans, and Snape doesn't treat either particularly well.

"You're a member?" I remember him asking me snidely.

"Yes," I snapped back.

"Aren't you a squib? What is it exactly that you do?" He seemed determined to humiliate me, but little does he know that I accepted my abilities long ago. I may not have magic but my powers of observation are keen and I can cook a mean meatloaf. I make myself useful enough.

"I provide headquarters. This is my house you are standing in and my cats you're kicking." I answered. He had enough sense to look chagrined about Cleopatra but he didn't apologize.

"I see." But I could see that he didn't, not really anyway. So I explained it to him.

"Albus approached me a couple of months after he put together this little group. 'We need a place to plot and plan. Somewhere Tom will never suspect,' he told me. Well, he wouldn't suspect a squib now would he? Most wizards don't want much to do with us, like they don't know how to act around us. My own family always treated me like I had a terminal disease. I always wanted to shout at them I was alright, just a little put out at their behavior." He coughed and I realized that I had gotten off topic. I'm so used to talking to my cats that I forget that humans aren't as patient, they don't listen nearly as well.

"Anyway, the fact of the matter is that I host headquarters, keep my ears tuned to the happenings in the Muggle world, and I can cook up a storm. Albus loves my meatloaf, so does Dedalus." I almost offered him some but I was still upset about him kicking my darling and about his tone of voice when he questioned me. I decided instead to beat him at his own game.

"You're a member?" I asked in the same snide tone he had used with me.

"Yes," he said in a patronizing manner.

"Aren't you a Death Eater? What exactly do you do?"

"I gather information," he told me rather curtly.

"Then we both serve in our unique capacities, I say. Neither one of is the ideal candidate for membership in the Order of the Phoenix but they wouldn't be able to function without us. Everyone contributes what they are able. Don't forget that." And with that, I wiggled my finger at him before I turned on my heel and headed back into the kitchen. I can't be sure, but I think I might have heard a whispered 'Yes ma'am,' but I doubt it.


	3. Lily Potter

**Chapter Three—Lily Potter**

James has to nudge me when the meeting begins, my eyes having drifted shut of their own accord.

"Lily, wake up. The meeting is starting," he whispers, pushing his pointy elbow into my ribs. It hurts. "You need to get more sleep, love."

Easy for him to say, he helps with Harry for sure, but even though he sleeps through the night now, taking care of him all day drains me completely. And then there are the dreams. I haven't told James, I've heard the way he scoffs at Divination and I don't blame him for disliking Professor Apolla, with her wild white hair, hunched back, and malevolent smile. She seemed almost excited to predict our deaths, each more gruesome than the last. Although in this day and age, they seem less like the fictional ramblings of a delusional old woman and more like statistical probabilities.

In the dreams I see my little boy grown up and at school. He's smiling with a red haired boy and a girl with wild brown hair, but there is a sadness that surrounds him—something in his eyes, a slight droop of his shoulder that only a mother would be able to detect. I know what I must do. I found the answer in an ancient spell book, _Sacrificia_. "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends," it said before the incantation. Love is power according to Professor Dumbledore; he explained that to James and me when he asked us to join the Order. I plan on using every ounce of my love for Harry to save him. I can only hope it works.

But I am tired of worrying, tired of dreaming, and not eating, so I turn my attention back to the meeting. I watch as Severus stands before the group, his right hand raised as he repeats the oath. He understands sacrifice. We have all said this oath, but I think that of any of us here, only Severus truly understands it. He won't fight openly. If he dies, the world will not remember him as the hero that he is, but as a criminal, a man who supported the Darkness. He has and he will, but today he stands before us and swears fidelity to the Light.

I don't remember much about my own induction, only that I stood slightly shaking as I repeated after Dumbledore. James and I accompanied his friends to a Muggle pub afterwards. We drank and laughed as Sirius ranted and raved about fighting the injustices of the world. The drunker he got the louder he became until we had to leave, the people around us staring at us as he proclaimed death for giants, goblins, and dragons. It was a happy moment, when we were still innocent of what we had pledged ourselves to fight. We read the papers every day and everyone knew of someone whose family had been affected by You-Know-Who's reign of terror, but sitting in that pub we had yet to realize what awaited us. Three times since then I have been certain that I would die for our cause, but by some miracle I survived, James and I both. Perhaps I survived so that I would be able to do what will soon be needed.

I have taken precautions and tonight after the meeting I hope to tell Alice of my discovery. Maybe this duty will fall to her. Maybe it won't work at all, but I can't allow myself to think like that. I remember cornering Severus in the hallway three nights before. Many were wary when Dumbledore announced that he wanted to induct Snape into the Order. He had come to two meetings on a trial basis. If anything had gone wrong, he would have been immediately arrested by one of the Aurors and taken to Azkaban, but his information proved to be too invaluable, and in the end even Alastor Moody was convinced.

"Severus," I had said, grabbing his arm as he walked towards the door. He wrenched it away from me and scowled.

"What do you want?" he sneered.

"Promise me you'll protect him," I said boldly, looking back at James who was holding Harry high and blowing kisses into his stomach.

"Potter can fend for himself," he replied, moving closer to the door.

"Not James, Severus. Harry." He stopped mid-step but he didn't look back at me.

"He will have Dumbledore and countless others," he said sharply.

"He'll need everyone he can get," I said.

"You are so determined to be a martyr? What a kind and loving mother you must be," he said, turning back to me. I had forgotten how cruel he could be. How could I want this black and hateful man to be my child's protector? I fought back the tears and struggled onwards.

"Promise me, Severus," I pleaded. He stared at me, his face twisted into a deep scowl. "I'm not asking you to love him, or even like him, just protect him."

His face eventually softened and he nodded quickly before striding out. There was much left unsaid between us, but actions speak louder than words. I demonstrated my trust in him in my asking, and he honors me by agreeing. It is enough.


	4. Alastor Moody

**Chapter Four—Alastor Moody**

I don't trust him. I don't trust anyone, but least of all a former Death Eater hoping to escape Azkaban. But Dumbledore will hear nothing of it, speaking of redemption and second chances. There are no such things as second chances in my mind. There's life, and that's it. Either you do it right or you don't. And Severus Snape has gone as wrong as a wizard can go.

As he stands before us, I wonder how long it will be before he betrays us like he betrayed You-Know-Who. Once a traitor, always a traitor. He is obviously a selfish man. How is it that he fulfilled the most basic requirement of membership? When Dumbledore approached Minerva McGonagall and me three years ago, he proposed a resistance movement made up of the most powerful witches and wizards in Britain. But not just anyone would be invited. Oh no! We extended invitations only to those who exhibited a strong love—not just proclamations of romance, fuzzy hearts, and moonlight serenades—but through their actions, through their commitment. Couples like the Longbottoms and the Potters were easily among our first choices, and they eagerly agreed. Potter's friends displayed true loyalty both to each other and to Dumbledore, and so we inducted them as well. In the end, a motley group of witches and wizards was assembled, maybe not the most powerful in Britain, but certainly the most dedicated, the most honorable, the most true—until now.

Albus claims my love of justice and fairness was what convinced him to come to me in the first place. He always was impressed that I refused to use the Unforgivables, even when it was allowed. Once someone starts down that road, it's impossible turn back, in my opinion. It's one reason why I have a hard time swallowing Snape as a spy. However, that cold, blustery night in the Hog's Head I touched my wand tip to that of Dumbledore's and McGonagall's and I swore to fight. We elected Albus our leader, and no matter how much I think he's gone off his rocker, I won't fight him in this decision. But that doesn't mean I'll sit back and watch as all our efforts are destroyed from within.

"I'll be watching you, Snape," I snarled at him at that first meeting.

"I suppose you will," he responded blandly. This seeming nonchalance about the gravity of the situation rankled me.

"I don't know what story you told Albus to win him over, but in my opinion, 'once a dark wizard, always a dark wizard.'"

"Then fortunately for me that your opinion doesn't matter." I grabbed him by the neck with my bare hands, throwing him up against the wall.

"Watch yourself, or you'll be locking lips with an Azkaban dementor faster than you can draw breath. Understood?" He nodded weakly, and I let him go. He tried hard to regain his composure, brushing off his robes and trying to recover his breath. When he entered the meeting several minutes later, he was the paragon of control, just as he is now, standing before us.

I don't trust him, but Snape holds us hostage with his flow of information. He is invaluable, and if letting him escape punishment means that innocent people will live, then that is the way it has to be. But I will keep my eyes on him. 'Constant vigilance,' that's my motto.

A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews. I know this isn't what I normally write, but I really enjoyed piecing it together. Next chapter: Severus Snape.


	5. Severus Snape

**Chapter Five—Severus Snape**

Three years, four months, and thirteen days I served as a loyal Death Eater. Until one day, I awoke, the sense of dread in which I had slowly been drowning, threatened to overtake me. I had been promised many things, some of which had come to fruition. But I had yet to find what I had been looking for. If I had to give it a name before I would have said knowledge, power, control. I still want these things, but I also want…more, something I can't identify, a nameless quality I've only heard of in fairy tales. So, I turned to the one person I swore I would never ask for help—Dumbledore. He offered me salvation. He offered me redemption. He offered me emancipation. But it would come at a price. The words sacrifice, duty, and responsibility swirled around my head like a fog. I remember agreeing, though I wasn't really sure of what the terms were. All I knew was that 'He' didn't own me anymore. I may still bear his mark, but my will is my own.

"Severus, I won't lie to you," Dumbledore told me, making sure I understood. "This is not the easy path. It is a path of labor, a path of toil, a path of self-sacrifice, a path in which you must devote a great deal of your effort and energy; you will have to forget yourself, you will have to serve those that have despised you, you will have to serve the witches and wizards of Britain." If he wanted to sell this idea to me, he hadn't seemed to be trying too hard. Does he know what the Dark Lord promised us when we pledged our loyalty to him? His path was much brighter than the headmaster's seemed.

"The path I will point out to you will bring pleasure, it will bring you a constant place in society, it will bring you the choice things in life, to eat and to drink and clothing to wear. You shall be popular in the society in which you shall move, and your whole life will be one constant round of pleasure," He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had told us. And for someone who had spent his whole life miserable, the lure of pleasure and popularity had drawn me like a thirsty man to a desert oasis. But it had all been a mirage, and like a disillusioned traveler, I found myself drinking sand.

And so here I am, repeating the oath that will not only saves me, but binds me anew, "I, Severus Snape, do solemnly promise to commit my time and energy, my love and devotion, my very life and soul to the work of the Order of the Phoenix. I turn my back on the darkened path, and turn my eyes upon the Light. Death does not frighten me, only failure."

"Please note that discussing Order business outside of its membership is strictly forbidden," Dumbledore reminds me needlessly. I nod. Then I touch my wand tip to the end of his, and they both light up, bathed in a golden light. Each member present files past me, and they too repeat this gesture, some scowling at me, while others avoid my eyes.

Perhaps this too is sand. Many of the other Order members despise me. There are Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew—school day enemies whose scars I still wear. Alice Longbottom will barely look at me, despite the effort I made to warn her of the Dark Lord's intentions. Moody attacked me in the hall the very first night, and Arabella Figg had the gall to wiggle her finger at me. Albus alone, with the possible exception of Lily Potter, trusts me. It doesn't matter what they think. I have a job to do, a duty to perform, and they can all be damned. Of course, they all begrudgingly acknowledge that without me, they most certainly are.

The End

A/N: The quotes by Dumbledore and Voldemort are paraphrased from a story about Hercules by Anonymous, (that guy really wrote some great lines, and so many of them!) In the story Hercules is approached by two beautiful women, the first one says something like what Dumbledore says. Her name turns out to be Duty. The second, who sounds like Voldemort, is named Vice.

Thanks for all the reviews!


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